Tuesday 30 October 2012

I went to Coast Out Fair Day on the weekend. The weather was bizzarely windy, and everyone at my stall ended up at least a little bit sick by the end of it.

I had a lovely time. Towards the end of the day, Louise, Emma and I started wlaking out into the ever-diminishing crowd with our remaining goods in an attempt to sell them for a lower price. Eventually we just said "Food" and "Donation", before I shoved our group's flyer in their face. It turns out when you ask people for a donation for something, it can go one of two ways. They'll give much more than the product is worth, or they'll do what lots of people did and just grab something and walk off.

The day ended up taking much longer than it was originally supposed to, and after pack up, I didn't get home until 7-something. I soon found myself in the shower, swearing in my head.

My weekend started immediately after class on Friday. That night, I had a sleepover, I guess you could call it. There were only five of us, so it was all very close knit. I was by far the most drunken one there. I felt really terrible though. Not because most of my blood had been replaced with alcohol, but because two of the girls were really unhappy. I mean REALLY unhappy. We'd all agreed to come over and have a few drinks, but apparently not. When two of your best friends are randomly unhappy and choose not to drink at a pre-organised agreed-upon shindig, what should you do? Well, apparently repeatedly asking if their okay doesn't work. I don't know what I was supposed to do though. It both broke my heart and pissed me off, so I just kept drinking and pole dancing. I had a good night. But I don't know if anyone else did. And I feel terrible.

The next morning I woke up and walked home to grab some eggs, before returning and waiting for everyone to wake up. That's the most boring thing one can do. Anyway, when they eventually woke up, I discovered that I had not only rolled in tim tams the previous evening, but when I was passing out in the early hours of the morning, I was loudly discussing the fact that I was going numb. I thought I'd thought that.

The later hours of Saturday saw me making an unspeakably large amount of cookies for the fair. After I finally finished this, I rode my bike to the shops to meet up with the others again, and of course left my bike lock at home. So we tied it up with a sock.

I had Goodie over that night, which was lovely. But we couldn't stop ourselves worrying about another dear friend. But there's only so much worrying you can do before falling asleep.

I've explained Sunday.

So now it's Tuesday, and I've finally succumb to one of the sicknesses floating around. I dread to think what class work I have to catch up on.

Friday 19 October 2012

Hanoi

I thought it was about time I posted something here. It was Sepia's birthday yesterday, but I did not give her anything. This post could be her gift. Although it's extremely narcissistic for me to assume that a piece of my writing could act as a gift to her. Narcissism is something I'm not fond of. Something else I'm not fond of is not having direct personal access to the internet.

So essentially this post will be rushed. No time to discuss my recent trip to Vietnam, which was actually extremely amazing. At one point, I woke up while vomiting. Or perhaps to the sound of my own vomiting. I was, thankfully, turned away from the guys I was sleeping with. Sharing a room with. But I was directly facing my things. So I lost some clothes and a neck pillow thanks to my sleep-vomiting.

I tell everyone this story when they ask about my trip. For me, it was one of the most thrilling experiences. I didn't enjoy it. But it was amazing. After I'd finished vomiting all over my stuff, I ran to the bathroom to look for something to clean it up with/see if I needed to vomit more. But then I ran downstairs to see if anyone in the hotel staff was awake/had a mop or some kind of jazz. But no. I was on my own.

So I tried my best to clean up my own vomit, in the dark, quietly, without vomiting more. That's a lie - I did vomit more. I slept in the bathroom that evening, on the floor. With a pillow though, so it was good. But I kept getting up to throw up, and this sort of thing didn't stop until we'd taken a long, bumpy bus ride to Halong Bay, and my body was contented with covering not only my possessions, but also my hair and my seat of the bus, in what is now called Esmerelda.

I think it's worst if I talk about Vietnam in a sporadic, out of order manner. But that may be how it will go. This event occurred near the start of the trip, at apperently beautiful Hanoi. I can't remember too much of it's beauty, just it's heat. As well as my Esmerelda. Oh, and of course the lighter man who followed Darby up and down the city streets trying to sell him a lighter. In Australia, people walk INTO shops and decide slowly what they might buy. In the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, the shop spills out of it's building onto the street, and the shop assistant decides frantically what you will buy. I really don't remember much of Hanoi. But I may have gotten a little less than sober one night with the girls in Hanoi. Still being a bit sick, I was no fun, but they were. Patricia may or may not have terrified another one of the girls by discussing masturbation while humping the wall. These two girls were also. sorry, may have also been, sharing a bed, much to the terror of the second girl who I won't name because I'm trying to keep my friends a little anonymity.